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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28499436">Introductory Remarks</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaMandCheezIts/pseuds/HaMandCheezIts'>HaMandCheezIts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Abuse and Aftermath [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Back to the Future (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Parents, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Arguing, Doctor/Patient, Doctors &amp; Physicians, Eating Disorders, Emergency room, Family Drama, Family Issues, Gen, Hallucinations, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury, Insomnia, Lone Pine Timeline (Back to the Future), Medication, Mother-Son Relationship, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Therapy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychologists &amp; Psychiatrists, References to Drugs, Scars, Step-parents, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Therapy, Unplanned Pregnancy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:47:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28499436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaMandCheezIts/pseuds/HaMandCheezIts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>We meet psychiatrist Hugh Lang, a colleague of Bedford Psych Hospital's Dr. Vincent - and then we're introduced to Dr. Lang's possible new patient, a troubled 17-year-old boy. </p><p>  <em>Lang studied his prospective new patient: Martin ("He goes by Marty," Vincent had said) McFly, 17. Recently discharged from Bedford, where he'd been involuntary committed for three days following an impulsive suicide attempt. Marty appeared to be the typical American teenager: medium-length brown hair, fairly attractive, fashionably attired. Yet he was huddled deep in his denim jacket, his hair looked unwashed, and his face was pale, with shadowed eyes that he kept trained on the floor. Lang also thought Marty looked thin, but the boy was of short stature, so it was possible he was just naturally slim.</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lorraine Baines McFly &amp; Marty McFly, Marty McFly &amp; Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Abuse and Aftermath [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Introductory Remarks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A continuation of the "Hard Times" story. </p><p>I wanted to add a little vignette that wasn't <em>precisely</em> a Marty story, although the second part of this fic is pretty Marty-and-Lorraine heavy. I have two stories following this one, so I have now created a series, <em>Abuse and Aftermath</em>. </p><p>You might need to read "Times" first to fully understand this fic, or to at least learn what led to Marty and Lorraine's appointment with Lang.  (If you've already read "Hard Times" and you check it out again, you may see some chapters have been slightly edited; I also changed some of the chapter titles.)</p><p>I tagged George and Doc in the character list, even though they're not in this fic (only mentioned). Also, I gave this story a Rape/Non-Con Archive Warning, as there are references to sexual abuse (although it's not described).</p><p>-ck</p><p><strong>Disclaimer:</strong> I do not own <em>Back to the Future,</em> Doctor Emmett L. Brown, Marty McFly, any of the McFly family members, or any other related characters (except for my original characters).</p><p>I am writing for fun and feedback, not for profit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As far back as he could remember, Hugh Lang had always wanted to help people.</p><p>As a boy, he had been known as the one who could mediate the worst arguments and disagreements amongst his family members, whether it was sibling rivalry (his brothers), money problems and infidelity (his parents), or holiday stressors (everyone else). In high school, the girls would cry on his shoulder, and the guys would quietly pull him aside to ask reluctant advice. More often than not, the crying girls and the hesitant boys had coinciding problems, and when Hugh would make the connection and then later see a happy couple that he was responsible for, the feeling of pride and satisfaction seemed momentous. To know that he could make a difference, and fix something or someone that had been broken. . . He'd known he'd found his calling. </p><p>Of course to become a professional (therapist, counselor, psychiatrist, psychologist, he hadn't decided yet), schooling would be necessary. A lot of schooling. Expensive schooling. Fortunately, he'd always been a good student, and in between scholarships and grants and a surprise inheritance from a grandfather who passed away, he didn't incur as much loan debt as some of his college (and later, med school) classmates. The inheritance did throw a wrench in his grant eligibility, but its amount had been larger than the grant he'd applied for, anyway.</p><p>When Hugh Lang became Dr. Lang, he started out as a small fry in large hospital, a junior member in the facility's well-regarded psychiatric department. And he learned – boy, did he learn. The patients they saw ran the gamut: battered wives (and husbands), needing domestic dispute counseling; terminally or chronically ill patients in deep denial; victims of trauma (gunshots, stabbings, muggings) who were in non-responsive fugue states; the occasional schizophrenic, or veteran with PTSD, or "ordinary" businessman who had paranoid delusions and thought his clients were plotting to kidnap him.</p><p>But it was the kids that made the largest impression on Hugh. The physically and sexually abused boys and girls, who came in with concerned and upset parents (or with guilty and secretive parents, who would claim the frequent injuries were "clumsiness" or "falls," and the accounts of sexual abuse were "exaggeration" or "fantasy"). The suicidal kids (usually teens, but unfortunately sometimes as young as ten), who were bullied or abused or depressed or grieving, and had no more will to live. The teenage girls, raped by a boyfriend, or an acquaintance, or - terribly - by a stranger. Hugh felt an inner need to help these young people, the promises of their generation, so much neglected possibility. It was his responsibility, his purpose to save them. He'd found another calling.</p><p>What made Hugh's final decision, what prompted him to go into private practice after his medical residency, was a thirteen-year-old patient named Kristin. Kristin had been secretly enduring her step-father's sexual abuse since age eleven, and now, two years later, she'd become pregnant by the man. Kristin's mother (who had assumed the abuse was happening but had never confronted her husband) had brought her timid daughter in for an exam and to discuss options. At some point earlier in the appointment, Kristin had found a discarded or dropped scalpel. While Kristin's mother had been keeping the doctors' attentions by loudly campaigning for her daughter to receive an abortion, Kristin, sitting mutely behind everyone on a hospital bed, had slit her throat with the scalpel. She'd died of massive blood loss in a little over a minute. And when the time of death had been called and Kristin's hysterical mother had been sedated, Hugh had gone to the locker room and had sobbed until he'd thrown up. He'd vowed then and there that when he had his own practice, that if he even <em>suspected</em> anyone was that close to the end of their rope, he’d teach them to be experts in knot-tying.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Monday, November 4th, 1985</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>11:18 A.M.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Hill Valley, California</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Hugh Lang gazed up from the file before him to the two people sitting in his office. </p><p>The file was comprehensive: his prospective patient's medical and ER records from Hill Valley General Hospital; a copy of the hospital psychologist's evaluation of the patient (as well as a transcript of the interview with the patient's mother); and copious notes from his colleague Dr. Arnie Vincent, one of the psychiatrists at Bedford Psychiatric Hospital in Grass Valley. Lang and Vincent had crossed paths during Lang's residency, and when Arnie had contacted Hugh about a possible new patient, Lang had been extremely appreciative of the referral. It wasn't that Hugh was hurting for patients, but knowing that a more experienced doctor had had enough respect and trust to refer a former patient to him was truly gratifying.</p><p>Yet even with the detailed file, Lang knew the best way to really know his patient, and the specifics of his trials and tribulations, was to <em>talk</em>. So he purposefully closed the file, moved his chair away from his desk, and slid it directly across from the mother and son.</p><p>Lorraine McFly: 47, but looked younger. She was dressed casually but well, with her hair coiffed and her nails done. Yet Lang could see wrinkles in the expensive clothes, and chips in the red fingernail polish. The woman also had a nervous way of rubbing her hands together, which is what had drawn Lang's eyes to her painted nails.</p><p>And his prospective new patient: Martin ("He goes by Marty," Vincent had said) McFly, 17. Recently discharged from Bedford, where he'd been involuntary committed for three days following an impulsive suicide attempt. Marty appeared to be the typical American teenager: medium-length brown hair, fairly attractive, fashionably attired. Yet he was huddled deep in his denim jacket, his hair looked unwashed, and his face was pale, with shadowed eyes that he kept trained on the floor. Lang also thought Marty looked thin, but the boy was of short stature, so it was possible he was just naturally slim.</p><p>Hugh leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees. "This is an interview for me as much as it is for you," he said. "I would be very happy to take Marty on as a patient, but I have to believe you have some questions for me before we make that commitment."</p><p>"I hate that term," Marty mumbled to the floor. Lorraine rubbed her son's shoulder. </p><p>"How about 'arrangement'?" Lang proposed, smiling. Marty lifted his eyes; Hugh was briefly startled by their blueness. The teen nodded his approval.</p><p>"Dr. Vincent recommended you," Lorraine said. "I liked him, and I thought he was helpful to Marty." She raised her eyebrows at her son; he shrugged diffidently. The woman continued. "I looked into you a little as well, and I like how you specialize in younger patients. I feel more secure knowing that you have experience with kids like Marty."</p><p>"Kids like me, Ma?" Marty echoed. "Who would these kids be? Ones that got sexually abused by their fathers, or ones that tried to kill themselves?" His eyes were hard, and his mouth tight.</p><p>Lorraine closed her eyes. "Marty. . . " she moaned.</p><p>Hugh straightened up. "Marty, are you angry at your mother?"</p><p>“What?” Marty asked in surprise. “Why – why would you think that?” He turned back to his mother. “Do <em>you</em> think I’m angry at you?”</p><p>Lorraine smiled, but it looked exceedingly sad. “It’s okay, honey. I understand.”</p><p>“Understand what? I'm not mad at you!” Marty said. He shifted his gaze to Dr. Lang. “<em>She</em> didn’t do anything to me – it was my dad. Why would I be angry at her?”</p><p>Hugh opened his mouth to give his opinion, but Lorraine beat him to it. “Because I let it happen. I didn’t see how your father was hurting you, and I didn’t stop it.”</p><p>Marty shook his head, snaking out a hand to briefly touch his mother. “Mom, how could you stop it? No one knew, not even Doc. I didn’t <em>want</em> anyone to know. And neither did Dad.” His voice, which had started out reassuring, quickly descended into bitterness.</p><p>“Maybe," Lorraine allowed. "But Dave thought something was going on between you and George, and I didn't believe him. . . And once I did know about your father, I should have seen how desperate you were, that you would – “ She gestured in the general direction of Marty’s hands.</p><p>“That I'd try to kill myself, Mom,” the teen said wearily, as if he was tired of stating the obvious. “But you can’t blame yourself for that, either. <em>I</em> didn’t know I was going to do it – it's not like I planned it.” Marty fidgeted in his chair, shifting uncomfortably, then eventually removed his jacket, revealing a ZZ Top concert tee-shirt underneath. <em>No, not just 'naturally' slim,</em> Hugh thought, seeing how the shirt hung loose on the teen's frame. <em>He <strong>is</strong> underweight.</em></p><p> Misinterpreting Lang's focused gaze, Marty extended his arms, twisting them palm-up. “Guess you should see these, huh? Since that’s why I’m here.”</p><p>Lang could see imprecise scars on both of Marty’s wrists; the horizontal lines were still red and somewhat puffy, and there were faint holes alongside the scars, from recently-removed sutures. “I got the stitches out on Friday,” Marty said.</p><p>Hugh nodded perceptively. “I know you were sent to Bedford because you tried to kill yourself,” he said, “but that’s not the only reason you’re here. Even if you hadn’t attempted suicide, you would still need to see a therapist to deal with your mental and emotional trauma from your father’s abuse.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Marty answered, his tone weary again. Then he grinned, although it looked more like a grimace. “Since you already know about all that from the ER psych and from Vincent, I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t have to go through the whole story again.”</p><p>Hugh’s returned smile was compassionate, but apologetic. “I’m sorry, Marty. If you agree to see me regularly as your psychiatrist, we <em>will</em> be talking about your father’s sexual abuse, and how it's impacted your current mental state.”</p><p>“What about medication?” Marty asked anxiously. This time it was Lorraine who put a hand on Marty’s arm.</p><p>Dr. Lang studied the obvious tension in the mother and son. “I usually wait until at least a second session before I suggest a medication. . . Is that an issue?” he asked. “Are you uncomfortable with the idea of needing medication?”</p><p>“Not with the need for it,” Lorraine said slowly, “but more about the type of medication – “</p><p>“I’m uncomfortable with the need for it,” Marty argued. “I’m fine, Mom.”</p><p>“You’re not fine!” Lorraine returned, her voice rising. “You’re not eating – “</p><p>“I eat when I’m hungry – “</p><p>“ – and you’re hardly sleeping,” Lorraine continued, overriding Marty’s protests. "Other than naps on the couch, and that's only when Emmett visits –  " She broke off, then looked to Lang. “He refuses to go in his room. Wednesday night – his first night home from Bedford –  he couldn't make it past his doorway. He had a panic attack." Lorraine took a quick breath. "That’s – that’s where he was when he slit his wrists. In his bedroom.”</p><p>Lang tipped his head, regarding Marty closely. “You had a panic attack?”</p><p>Marty shifted his eyes to the side, sighing. “Sorta. Doc thinks it was a flashback.”</p><p>“Doc?”</p><p>“Doctor Emmett Brown – he's a family friend,” Lorraine said quickly. "He’s been helping me a bit, now that my husband’s moved out. Home maintenance and such. . . Emmett and Marty, well, ah. . . Emmett has a mobile business, and Marty’s assisted him with that for a few years. He trusts Emmett – he's one of the only people Marty will see right now.”</p><p>“Emmett Brown,” Dr. Lang said pensively. “I think I know who that is. I’ve seen him around town. . . That scientist fellow, the one with the interesting hair?” When Marty nodded tentatively, Lang unexpectedly smiled. “He’s always reminded me of Albert Einstein.”</p><p>Marty beamed, suddenly looking a lot less tense. “That’s like the best complement you could give him.”</p><p>Hugh’s smile increased a bit, then his face became serious. “And Emmett – Doc – thought you had a flashback? What happened?”</p><p>Marty sighed again, then blinked up at the ceiling. “Uh, I got really scared, and my heart started beating really fast. It felt like I couldn’t move, or breathe. . . I thought there was still blood everywhere, even though it was all cleaned up. Doc tried to calm me down, and I started hitting him.” He looked shamefully embarrassed. “I think I thought he was my dad. Everything got confused. I was pretty worked up, so my mom had me take one of the pills from Dr. Vincent, a Valium.” He gave a humorless laugh. “And that didn’t go too well.”</p><p>Lang leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “How so?”</p><p>Lorraine gazed consolingly at her son. “Marty had a bad reaction to the Valium. That’s why he’s leery of medication. But I’m concerned that without . . . assistance, Marty’s recovery will be more difficult. Right now all he does is hide in the house watching TV. He doesn't talk to us, he won't go outside, he won’t see anybody. . ."</p><p>"Who am I supposed to see, Ma? The Pinheads? I don't even know if I'm gonna be able to play guitar again!"</p><p>"How would you know? You won't even set foot in your room long enough to touch a guitar!"</p><p>Marty sputtered for a moment. "Jennifer! Jenn came by on Friday! I saw her!"</p><p>"For ten minutes, when she dropped off your homework." Lorraine addressed Lang. "He hasn't been to school in a week."</p><p>“I was in a damn psych hospital!" Marty yelled, clenching his hands into loose fists. "And I was a mess Thursday, after spending all night in the ER 'cause of the Valium <em>crap</em>." He fairly spit out the last word. "Friday we went to get my stitches out and then we met with the social worker, now today we're here – “</p><p>“I heard what you told Jennifer,” Lorraine accused Marty, “about you not wanting to go back to school until your scars fade more. And that could be weeks yet – “</p><p>“No, I said I wanted to wait until my hands were working better, I’ve only been doing the therapy exercises for a few days, and <em>maybe</em> I said by then my scars shouldn't be so obvious. . .“</p><p>Lorraine was shaking her head, her mouth a tense, worried line. Marty trailed off, then looked at her in agonized defeat. "You think I'm nuts," he said brokenly. "You want me back in Bedford, or drugged into oblivion."</p><p>"Marty, God, no!" Lorraine reached out toward her son, but Marty wrapped his arms around himself and turned away. "I just want you better!" she cried. "And what you're doing now, hiding from the world, isn't helping!"</p><p>Marty lowered his arms, turning to shout at his mother. "Sorry I'm such a basket case! If you'd let me go stay at Doc's place, I'd be out of your hair and you wouldn't have to worry about your crazy, suicidal, little Marty anymore!"</p><p>Hugh had been watching and listening, studiously gauging the reactions and responses. But as Marty became more anxious and agitated, the psychiatrist grew concerned. The teen's breathing had quickened, and his face had paled even further. Worried that Marty was approaching hysteria, Lang decided to cease the impromptu experiment, and close his current window into the family dynamic. “Lorraine, Marty!” he said loudly, clapping his hands. “Enough, please!”</p><p>Lorraine lowered her eyes, murmuring an apology. Marty was still breathing hard, and he swiped at his eyes a few times, muttering incomprehensibly. Lorraine looked like she wanted to hug her son, but then practically sat on her hands to avoid doing so. Hugh wondered if this was because Marty had become annoyed with his mother's comforts, or if the teen was resistant to being touched because of his father's abuse.</p><p><em>One problem at a time, Hugh.</em> He spoke to Lorraine. “Marty had to go to the emergency room after taking the Valium? What dose amount was it?”</p><p>“Two milligrams, it was a sample from Dr. Vincent,” Lorraine said. “He'd also given us a prescription for a weeks’ worth, but after we found Marty couldn’t tolerate the drug, I threw the prescription away.” Marty huffed quietly; it was followed by a half-sob.</p><p>Lang rose from his chair and stepped over to his desk, then began to page through the file. “Damn, here it is,” he said quietly. “I missed it; when I saw it was a report from Hill Valley Gen's ER, I thought it was in relation to the suicide attempt.” Bringing the paper back to his chair, he sat again and began to scan it. “Hmm.” He looked up at Marty. “Hallucinations?”</p><p>Marty turned away uneasily. “He doesn’t quite remember,” Lorraine said softly, reaching out to stroke a hand over Marty’s hair; the teen flinched. “But yes, he was hallucinating. He thought he had glass in his hands, and he was trying to get it out. . . He still had his stitches then, and we were worried he'd pull them out too early. He also said there were bugs crawling under his skin – “</p><p>“Ants,” Marty whispered. “Fire ants.” He glanced at his mother. “I don’t remember the glass thing, but I remember the ants.” He shuddered. “It felt like they were moving around under my skin, biting me.”</p><p>“He was hitting himself, trying to kill the ants, and then he began to shake, and he couldn’t stop.” Lorraine looked like she might cry. “Then his breathing got really shallow, and his lips started to turn blue.”</p><p>Dr. Lang was studying the ER report. “’Oxygen applied to rectify dyspnea,’” he read aloud. He looked up grimly. “The reactions you experienced, Marty, the hallucinations and the tremors and the breathing difficulties, they are <em>rare</em> side effects.” When Marty huffed again, Lang continued. “I’m not saying they weren’t scary, or dangerous. But just because you had a bad reaction to diazepam doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll have the same unfortunate reaction with a different drug. Although you should avoid any type of benzodiazepines in the future.”</p><p>“Is trazodone a benzodi–"
 </p><p>“Benzodiazeprine,” Hugh finished for Marty. “And no, trazodone is in a different drug class. Diazepam, or Valium, is a sedative and an anxiolytic, or anxiety-reducer. Trazodone is an anti-depressant that helps modulate a chemical in your brain called serotonin.“ Lang saw Marty's brow furrow, and felt it wise to postpone the medication discussion. "I know Dr. Vincent had mentioned trazodone, but as of yet I’m not convinced that would be the best choice of medication for you. We can talk more about it at your next session, on Wednesday, if possible.” Lang nodded at the clock on his desk. “We’re running short on time today.”</p><p>Lorraine straightened, smoothing back her hair and blinking back her tears.  “Wednesday is fine,” she said decisively. “Whatever is best for Marty. What time do you need us here?”</p><p>“I'll need Marty here at eleven again – after that, we'll coordinate his appointments with his school schedule." Then Hugh smiled regretfully at the woman. "But I’ll want to meet with Marty alone on Wednesday, and most likely for future appointments. Of course, I will speak with you after each session, to inform you of Marty's progress. Oh, and any medication decisions will be made by the three of us.”</p><p>Marty looked in exasperation at his mother. “So I guess we’re not gonna talk about this?” he asked, jerking his head at Dr. Lang. “I don't get a vote? You've decided he’s gonna be my new shrink?”</p><p>“Marty!” Lorraine scolded. “'Shrink.' Honestly!”</p><p>Dr. Lang laughed, then smiled sincerely at Marty. “You’re completely right. I was being presumptuous. I would like to be your new shrink, Marty. But the decision is yours.”</p><p>Marty studied the floor for a moment, breathing deeply. When he finally raised his head and again aimed his startling blue eyes at Hugh, it was with a genuine smile.</p><p>“Yeah, I think I’d like you to be my regular psychiatrist, Dr. Lang.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong>END</strong> </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Any comments are welcome!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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